


Last Hope

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-04 18:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15152735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: The reader has lost everything: her family, her group, the place she called home.  She’s ready to end it all, but when her suicide attempt goes awry, she finds Daryl Dixon and a whole community waiting to embrace her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is an anonymous request that was sent in on Tumblr about three months ago.
> 
> ‘Reader lost the last group she was in and lost all hope, she’s standing at the edge of the roof of a 4 story building, the thunder is rumbling and it’s raining heavily, she looks down and and thinking back… while standing on the roof she remembers all the groups she had lost and all her friends (she wasnt close to her family and didnt pay them any mind) … she takes a step forward and falls, lands hardly on the roof of an abadoned car, injured and waits for the walkers to feast on her … daryl heard the loud “pang” and rescues her, takes care of her and her injuries and as soon as she gets better … Daryl takes her to the prison and she gets close to him and then the flu spreads … more losses and she gets depressed, she never told Daryl what she did on the roof just lied that she fell when he asked her in that house where he took care of her … and after the losses she opens up to her and tells him about the attempt and she cries and he holds her real close. With a lil fluff and stuff.’

You stood on the edge of the roof and spread your arms like wings, as if you could launch yourself towards the horizon and fly away from the hell that the world had become. The sky was a steely grey, the kind that threatened rain, though the heat was still sticky and suffocating. Down below you could hear the echoing groans of the undead as they stumbled around the city, the masses largely depleted, just the odd isolated biter remaining, forever roaming in a constant search for flesh. At the back of your mind you wondered if you’d join their ranks, doomed to wander the streets until somebody took pity on you and jammed a blade into your skull, but the idea was not enough to deter you. You weren’t up there to try to fly, no matter what your posture might indicate.

Your limbs felt lead-heavy, your mind haunted by those you’d lost. You could feel them, dragging you down, weighing on your heart as you fought for survival, constantly moving, until you just couldn’t go on anymore. You were so tired. Visions of their faces span in front of your eyes, a morbid kaleidoscope of those who had taken you in, called you a friend, only to die screaming as the walkers invaded your camp, overpowering living, breathing humanity with the stench of rotting meat. You felt cursed. Each group you joined was torn apart, every person that showed you kindness inevitably turned into something incapable of conscious thought. And slowly you came to the realisation… You didn’t want to be here anymore.

A loud crack of thunder sent a shudder through your body, and then the tell-tale prick of moisture on your skin heralded the arrival of the impending rain as the skies let loose with a cascade.  You were drenched instantly, your clothes clinging to your body, your hair hanging in rats tails around your face, as another rumble split the air. This was more like it.  Taking that step forward before had felt like a surrender, like holding your hands up and saying you’d been beaten, but now, with the storm raging around you, it felt like you were simply abandoning yourself to the chaos.

You took a deep breath, trying to control the pounding of your heart, and focused again on the people you’d lost, imagining them waiting for you, watching, spurring you on as they beckoned you to join them on the other side.  You just hoped that, wherever that was, it was free from the pain and suffering that defined the world now.  You lifted your foot experimentally, wavering on one leg, your arms still outstretched, and then, with a final gasp, you stepped out from the solid surface beneath you and let yourself fall.  

Time slowed down.  You could hear your pulse racing in your ears over the deafening drumming of the rain, could feel the rush of air against your skin as you tumbled towards the ground, the city blurring before your eyes, and then, with a sickening crunch, there was just pain.

You could feel smooth metal beneath your fingertips, water running in rivulets along the peaks and dents, and you twisted your head round to see that you were spread-eagled on the roof of a car, a long estate type that you’d barely noticed from your birds-eye view.  It had crumpled under the impact, and you could see blood now, mixing with the rain, vivid red against the dirty beige paintwork.  So, you were bleeding, possibly from several different places, and bruised, your ankle broken, at least, as well as several ribs you suspected, but alive… Definitely alive.  This hadn’t been the plan.  It was supposed to have been quick.  Now you were stricken, helpless, and it would be down to the walkers to finish you off. You knew the sound of your landing would be drawing them in, could hear their grunts growing louder, and you squeezed your eyes tight shut and waited.  This would hurt, you knew that, beyond anything you could possibly imagine, but then it would be over, at last.

The first bony hand wrapped around your ankle, the one that was sending spasms of pain through your body, and you shrieked as it gave you a hard tug, trying to drag you closer so it could sink its teeth into the soft flesh of your calf. This was it then.

‘Hey, what the hell are ya doin’?’

The biter that was grasping you was torn away, and you heard the tell-tale squelch of a blade penetrating brain matter, before a figure loomed into your eyeline, a deep frown creasing his brow, beneath the dark hair that was plastered to his forehead.  ‘Y’alright? Ya bit?’

‘No.’  You tried to shake your head, but found it hurt too much to move.  Your mind was reeling as the man’s hands moved deftly over your limbs, checking you over, probably ticking your injuries off on his fingers.  ‘I think my ankle’s broken.’

‘Yeah, reckon ya’ve got a few broken bones, maybe worse.  Saw ya fall.  What the hell happened?’

‘I-I…’  You tailed off as a shadow fell over your savior, and he span, bringing his gore-covered knife down into the shoulder of the biter as it lunged at him, before pushing it to the ground and driving the heel of his boot into its skull.

‘Gotta get ya out o’ here, alright?’  He was glancing round, assessing the danger, your chances of escape. ‘Can ya move?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Then this is gon’ hurt some.’  

Your breath left you in an agonised gasp as he slipped an arm under your back, hauling you upright, before tightening his hold and throwing you over his shoulder, his hand clamping down on the back of your thigh to hold you in place. Your ribs screamed in protest, and you had to bite down hard on your fist to stop yourself from letting out a wounded cry.  

‘M’sorry.’  You felt the vibrations of the man’s voice as your head lolled against the soft leather of his vest.  The ground spun beneath you as he turned and broke into a slow jog, heading for the intersection in the hope that he’d find at least one path clear.  Every step he took jolted your battered body, and you whimpered against your fingers as the edges of your vision began to blur.  The last thing you heard before everything went black was a panicked curse.

 

* * *

 

Through the haze of your thoughts, you gradually became aware of pressure being applied to the back of your head, the stinging pain that had been niggling at you for you didn’t know how long intensifying with every touch.  As your mind dragged you back to consciousness, it was joined by an excruciating cacophony of aches and pains from the rest of your body, fighting for attention as you fidgeted to try to relieve your suffering.  Mistake!  The throbbing in your chest became an intense agony and a guttural groan forced its way up your throat as you held yourself rigid, trying to avoid any further discomfort.

The pressure against your skull had disappeared at your cry, but now it was back, and your eyes flickered open to see your rescuer studying you as he tended to your wounds.  His eyes were narrowed as he worked, and you noticed that the shirt he’d been wearing was shredded on the floor beside him, leaving him only in a thin t-shirt and his leather vest.  His arms were streaked with blood, and you idly wondered whether it was his or yours, before he noticed you watching him and nodded to you in greeting.

‘Wasn’t sure ya’d wake up,’ he mumbled, as he pulled his hand back from your hair with a balled up rag clenched between his fingers.

‘Where are we?’  As your awareness increased, you realised you were on your back on the concrete floor of a high-ceilinged room with large windows running down one side. It seemed to be empty of anything other than the two of you, and you felt a rising sense of panic at the idea of being alone with a stranger and nothing to hand to protect yourself, even if you were capable of fighting.  

‘Ol’ warehouse out near the main road.  Couldn’ get ya no further.  Too many walkers around.  Storm musta riled ‘em up.’

‘Right.’  Made sense you supposed.  They were attracted to loud noises, and the thunder echoing around the city would’ve thrown them off, reeling them in before rolling away out of reach.  The man beside you was slipping a hand under the back of your neck again, lifting your head so he could apply more pressure to your injury.  You let him.  It would have hurt too much to resist even if you’d wanted to, so you let your body lie limp, a ragdoll for him to clean up and bandage.  ‘Who are you?’  The words sounded short and abrupt as they tumbled from your lips, and you felt immediately guilty when you saw his shoulder’s tense, his touch becoming less gentle as he glared at you.

‘I’m Daryl, the guy who saved yer ass back there. Don’ worry ‘bout sayin’ thanks or nothin’.’

‘Sorry.’  Chastened, you sighed, grimacing as he laid your head back against the ground. ‘I didn’t mean to sound…  It just hurts, that’s all.  Everything hurts.’

‘Ain’t surprised.’  He moved down your body, towards your broken ankle, and you gritted your teeth when he ran his hands over the swollen joint.  ‘What were ya doin’ up on the roof anyway?   What happened?’

You opened your mouth to answer, before letting it snap shut again.  You couldn’t tell him.  How were you supposed to explain to this man that you wanted to die?  That by coming along and playing the hero, he’d snatched you from the peace you were desperately seeking?  It wasn’t like you’d argued when he’d come to your rescue, and it was dawning on you now that maybe, somewhere deep inside, a small part of you was actually relieved that he had.  ‘Yeah, I was… scavenging.  Thought there might be something worth having left inside, but I got cornered by corpses. They were blocking the staircase so I could only go up.  Guess I panicked, stopped looking where I was going, and then…  Well, then I fell.’

Daryl grunted.  ‘Well, yer lucky.  Fall like that coulda killed ya.’

‘Yeah.’  A smirk flickered across your face, but he was looking the other way, and you quickly neutralised your expression.  ‘Guess it could.’

‘Ya got a name?’  He was creating a splint now, binding a long, smooth shaft to the break with strips of fabric, and drawing a pained gasp from your throat.  

‘Y/N.’  

‘Ya got a group, Y/N?  Friends?  Family?’

Your mind flashed back to the faces of the people you’d lost, the sense of security that you’d drawn from their companionship and the brutal violence of their deaths, and you shook your head.  ‘No.  It’s just me.’

‘Gotta ask ya some questions then, alright?’

You flinched as he tied off the last knot, inspecting his work as he gently placed your foot back down.  ‘I don’t think I’m in a position to argue, do you?’

He nodded, but his face remained serious and you swallowed hard, feeling somehow that your entire future was to be determined by the next few minutes.  ‘How many walkers ya reckon ya’ve killed?’

‘What sort of question is that?’  You frowned at him, racking your brain to try and estimate a body count, but most of the corpses you’d taken down had been in the midst of a chaotic fight for survival and you really had no idea.  ‘I don’t know.  Twenty maybe? I haven’t been keeping track.’

‘How many people have ya killed?’

That was an easier question to answer and a harder one all at once.  You could still picture the tawny eyes locked on yours as you backed away, her mouth opening to plead with you one final time before you turned and fled.  She’d needed you as the fever raged through her body, your best friend, and you couldn’t do it.  You couldn’t save her from her fate.  ‘None.’  You managed to force the word out, trying to blink away the tears that had surged to the surface.  

‘Why?’

His eyes met yours, and you saw him register the emotion in your face, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he waited for your explanation.

‘I-I couldn’t…’

You tailed off, but Daryl was nodding in understanding.  ‘I get it. Ain’t easy.’

‘No, it’s not.’

He inhaled sharply, and when his face softened, you realised that, whatever kind of test this was, you’d obviously passed.  ‘We got a place outside o’ the city.  Got people, a lot o’ people, beds, supplies, fences.  Soon as things die down out there, I’mma take ya back with me.  We got a doc there who can patch y’up a damn sight better than I can.’

‘Can I ask a question?’  He glanced up from where he was bundling up the excess fabric bandages and shoving them in his bag.  ‘Why are you doing this?  Why are you helping me?’

‘Wha’s the point of any o’ this if I don’t?’  As you considered that, he pushed himself to his feet, kicking his backpack to one side and made his way over to one of the windows, peering out into the gloom.  ‘We ain’t gettin’ out o’ here tonight.  S’gon’ be dark soon.  Ya should get some rest.’

‘What are you gonna do?’  You were still edgy, anxious, slightly hyper-aware of this man with his calloused fingers and the dirt ingrained in his skin, and yet you felt safer in his presence than you’d felt since this whole thing had started. You couldn’t explain it, and the pain was making it harder and harder to think.  

‘I’ll keep watch,’ he assured you, and you let your eyes flicker closed again, feeling sleep creeping up on you.  

Before unconsciousness dragged you under, you remembered his earlier snapped remark, and managed to rasp two last words before the blackness took you.  ‘Thank you.’


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was sinking lower behind the trees, bathing the whiskery grasses of the prison fields in an orange glow. The contented snorting of the pigs as they foraged in their pen was audible over the distant groans of the walkers that clustered at the fences, and, high in the guard tower that stood in one corner of the yard, you could see the two figures on watch duty silhouetted against the sky. You sighed contentedly and twisted round on the table of the picnic bench where you sat, laying back and stretching out, feeling the retreating rays warm your skin. Your ribs ached in protest but you ignored them, putting the pain that still plagued your body to the back of your mind.  It had been three weeks since Daryl had carried you out of the city and brought you back to his community and, as much as you tried to fight it, you were starting to feel secure here, safe and at home.

‘Workin’ hard as usual, I see.’ A gruff southern drawl disturbed your tranquillity, and you cracked open an eye to see the archer sauntering towards you, a spring in his step that you’d come to realise indicated another successful run under his belt. ‘I didn’ save yer ass so ya could lie around on it all day, y’know.’

You didn’t bother to justify that with a response, though you felt a small grin tug at the corners of your mouth as he straddled the bench, leaning his crossbow against the wooden struts.  ‘How was your run?’

‘Good. Found some ol’ cans o’ food, some clothes too if ya need anythin’.’

‘Nah, I’m good.’

He nodded, though you saw his eyes drift over your threadbare jeans, torn at the knees and stained with blood, before he averted them back to the horizon. You knew in all honesty that you were in no position to be turning down the offer of new clothes, but at some point over the last few weeks, you had sworn not to take any more from this group than you had to.  You’d had no choice in the matter when it came to the bandages and the painkillers that Hershel had doled out when you’d first arrived and, of course, you needed to eat and drink to survive, yet you’d convinced yourself that maybe, if you were restrained and tried to take as little as possible, they would somehow escape your curse.  You’d come to know and appreciate some of the people here and you desperately wanted them to survive.  Especially Daryl.

Since the day he’d strode through the gates with you cradled in his arms, Daryl had been your protector.  He’d watched out for you, checking in on you whenever he returned from his runs, nagging the doc if he thought you were in pain, trying to sneak you extra rations to build your strength up, though you always refused them.  It was almost as though he felt that, by saving your life, he had a responsibility towards you and, you had to admit, his company made life in the apocalypse a little easier to bear.

Yes, life was good here, for however long it lasted, and when Daryl’s hand rested on your shoulder as he pushed himself to his feet, the smile you gave him was one of serenity and genuine affection.

‘Carol’s ‘bout to serve up dinner.  Ya comin’?’

‘Sure.’  Your stomach gave an involuntary growl of hunger at the thought as you pushed yourself up from the tabletop, swinging your legs round to lower yourself carefully down to the ground, but Daryl’s arm was already around your waist, supporting you as you slipped from the bench.

‘I got ya.’  Your ankle was still weak, and you leant on him as you limped towards the cellblock, relying on his strength to propel you forward at a faster pace than you’d manage alone.  ‘Still hurtin’?’

‘It’s getting better,’ you reassured him.  ‘These things take time, right?’

‘Ya doin’ alright otherwise?’

‘I’m fine.’  You met his eyes as he paused to pull open the heavy metal door, and felt your cheeks grow warm under the intensity of his stare.  ‘I promise, I really am doing okay.’

And as you stepped into the room full of friends, sharing food and conversation about their days, as if the world hadn’t ended all those months ago, you realised just how true that was.  You were alive, and you were bordering on happy, and that was more than you ever could have hoped for as you stood on the edge of that roof.

Until, a few days later, when you woke to the sound of screams…

 

* * *

 

The cell felt claustrophobic and intimidatingly big all at once.  The concrete walls that had once felt safe now made you feel trapped, hemmed in, but an icy chill pervaded the air, making your blood run cold.  You wrapped your arms around your knees, curling yourself into a ball on your bunk, as though, if you could make yourself small enough, you might just disappear and then this could all be over.  You’d thought you were safe, that this time would be different.  You’d tried to protect these people from your curse, to not take advantage of their kindness, and still death had come and begun to rip them away from you one by one.

The fences had counted for nothing.  Nor had the strength of this group.  They were fighters, quick and smart, unlike some of the others you’d been with, and so, fate being the cruel bitch it was, their downfall had come in a guise that they couldn’t fight.  An illness, a flu, spreading through their ranks and decimating them.  An entire ward of people sitting on death row, quite literally, waiting for the virus to steal away their breath and leave them as one of the monsters that had driven them to this place.  Daryl had taken a few of the strongest, headed out on a run to try and hunt down the medication that Hershel so badly needed to treat the ailing population, but you knew it was hopeless.  By the end of the week, there would be no one left but you.  That was how it worked.  You’d been here before.

For the first time, you wished that Daryl hadn’t come to your aid on the roof of that car.  It would have been far kinder if he’d let you get torn apart, go out screaming in the rain, rather than submitting you to more loss and pain, knowing it would just lead you back to that same place, another roof somewhere, another goodbye to this world that tormented you.  If only you’d been honest with him from the start, maybe he wouldn’t have risked the lives of his people, maybe he’d have left you to fend for yourself.  Maybe it would have been better that way.

As desperate shouts echoed through the complex, and deafening explosions of gunfire pierced the air, you rocked back and forth and sobbed.

 

* * *

 

At some point, silence had fallen again, eerie and weighted with grief, and, drained from the tears that continued to fall, you’d drifted into an uneasy sleep, where faces from your past lurked in the shadows and reached out to grab you as you passed them by, teeth snapping menacingly.  When the thin mattress beneath you dipped, at first you thought it was one of them, but the hand that brushed over the clammy skin of your arm was warm and calloused.  

‘Hey, s’me.’  Daryl’s low rasp dragged you back to consciousness and you blinked dazedly up at him as he chewed on his thumb nail, seemingly oblivious to the dirt that clung to his hands.

‘Daryl?  You’re back?’

‘Looks like it, don’t it?’

‘Did you get the meds?’

‘Yep.’  He nodded, though his gaze dropped to the floor and you realised it had been a tough run, even if he had found what he needed.  ‘Handed ‘em over to the doc.  He’s gon’ make sure e’ryone gets what they need.’  You took a minute to process that, your mind reeling.  In all honestly, you hadn’t even expected him to make it back alive, let alone with the antibiotics, but if he had then maybe, just maybe…  The archer exhaled loudly before he spoke again.  ‘Maggie tells me yer’ve been in here since I left.’

So, it had been noticed how low you’d sunk, even in the midst of the chaos.  ‘No, I-‘

‘Ain’t eaten nothin’.  Look like y’ain’t slept much neither.’  He was scowling at you now, though you could see concern behind his eyes and a trace of something else…  Guilt. He was blaming himself for your inability to look after yourself, that responsibility that he’d taken for you becoming a burden.  But it had started before him, before this place, and you had to show him it wasn’t his fault.  You had to make him understand.  ‘Wha’s goin’ on with you?’

‘I tried to kill myself.’  You blurted it out, the words leaving a sour taste in your mouth as you watched him closely for a reaction, surprised when he didn’t flinch. Instead, he remained silent, waiting for you to go on.  ‘The day you found me in the city.  I didn’t fall off that roof, I jumped.  I wanted to die.  I just… I wanted out of all of this.’

He was nodding slowly, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he considered his next words.  ‘Thought as much.’

That threw you off, and you pushed yourself up on your elbows, narrowing your eyes at him as he pressed his finger to the tip of an arrow protruding from the bow leaning against the wall.  ‘You did?’

‘Mmhmm.  Ya story din’t make no sense.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, for starters, that block had already been raided.  Was damn obvious so there was no way you’da been scavengin’ there ‘less ya were stupid.  An’ if there’d been walkers on that roof, least some of ‘em would’a followed ya off the edge.  Weren’t no corpses on the sidewalk.  Jus’ didn’ add up.’

Your jaw had dropped open as he spoke, listing off the reasons he’d seen through your lie as though it were obvious, and you supposed it was now, looking back.  He’d known all this time.  ‘You never said anything.’

He shrugged.  ‘Figured ya’d tell me when ya were ready.  Thought it was better t’ jus’ keep an eye on ya, make sure ya were okay.’

‘That’s why you’ve been looking out for me?’

‘Yeah.  Well, that ‘n’…’

‘What?’

Even through the gloom of the cell, you could see that the tips of his ears had turned pink as he avoided your gaze, staring off into the corner as he waited for the moment to pass, before steering the conversation back on track.  ‘So, why’d ya do it?’

You exhaled loudly, your body shuddering at the memory of the desolation that had taken a hold of you as the storm closed in. ‘I’ve been with a couple of groups since this thing started, and I’ve watched them both get ripped apart by biters. Everyone I loved, everyone that tried to help me, just gone, like that.  Or not gone, and I think that was even worse.’  You hesitated, squeezing your eyes shut to fight the tears that were threatening.  Even now, just the thought of the screams, the horror, was enough to drag you under a wave of emotion.  ‘But both times, I survived.  Alone. Just me.  And I started to think that maybe it was me that was causing this, that maybe I was cursed.  And now, here, this virus…  People are dying again, Daryl, good people, but I’m fine, and I…’

You tailed off as the tears came again, deep, choking sobs that made your stomach muscles ache and your eyes burn as you wept.

‘Hey, s’alright.’

‘It’s not alright!’  You pushed away the hand that had reached over to rub soothing circles over your back, not wanting to be comforted in that moment.  ‘Do you know what it’s like to be alone, Daryl?  To be alone and terrified, and not knowing where to go or who to turn to, or how you’re gonna survive another day?  I couldn’t do it anymore.  I can’t!’

‘Y’ain’t alone.’

‘But it’s happening again!  It is, and it’s just a matter of time-‘

‘Hey!’  His fingers wrapped around your wrists as you scrubbed at your face, pulling them away so he lock his gaze with yours, and you found yourself strangely centred by the piercing blue.  ‘Y’ain’t alone, and this virus, it ain’t gon’ be the end of this place.  I get that ya’ve been through hell, and I ain’t sayin’ it’s gon’ be easy from here on out, but ya’ve got us now.  Ya’ve got me.’

‘But-‘

‘There ain’t no damn curse.  We’ve lost people before this, ‘n’ we’ll lose people after. It ain’t ever easy, but we’re still standin’.  We’ve come too far t’ be taken down by some damn cold, Y/N.  We’re gon’ get through this together, ya hear me? I ain’t goin’ nowhere.’

The sincerity in his words wrapped themselves around your heart, and you felt it flutter as a last shred of hope emerged. You clung to it with all you were worth, and in turn, you clung to Daryl, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the hollow above his collarbone, inhaling the smoky scent of him and letting it ground you.  He held you to him, squeezing tight enough that you whimpered at the pressure on your ribs, and even then only easing up slightly, as he rocked you gently.

‘‘Ya know, my dad, he used to beat on me ‘n’ my brother.’  His voice was a harsh whisper, as though he was having to force the words from his throat. ‘Nearly killed us both once or twice.’

You raised your head to look at him, your brow creasing in a frown when you saw the pain that twisted his features.  ‘Daryl…’

‘He was a mean ol’ bastard when he’d had a drink.  Built like a tank ‘n’ all.  Ain’t nothin’ either of us could do ‘cept take the beatin’ ‘n’ wait for it t’ be over.  So, yeah, I know what it’s like t’ not wanna be here no more, to feel alone, like there ain’t no one comin’ t’ help ya.’

‘I’m sorry.’  You pictured him as a boy, cowering in a corner from a faceless threat, hurt and hopeless, and tried to equate him with the man that was holding you now, fearless and kind.

‘Don’t be.  I’m stronger now than I ever was, ‘n’ I’m still here.  S’all ya gotta do, Y/N.  Just be here ‘n’ things’ll get easier.’

‘I thought they had, but then-‘

‘I know.  But we’re both still here, right?  Survivin’.’

You nodded against his chest, and felt a small laugh rumble against your cheek.

‘Look, I’m with ya, girl, always.’  The gravel of his voice was reassuring, though it dropped to a deep growl as he continued.  ‘But if ya try anythin’ like that again, I’mma kill ya myself.’

‘I won’t.’  You shook your head, your hair sticking to your cheeks, damp from tears. ‘I promise, I won’t.  Just don’t leave me, Daryl.  I can’t do that again, I can’t be on my own.  It’s too hard.  I don’t want to live like that!’

‘Ya won’t have to.  I ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to you or to me, alright?  Y’ain’t never gonna be alone.’

And, for the first time, you truly believed it. This man that had been through his own hell long before the dead started walking, who had carried you to safety through a city infested with walkers, that had buoyed your spirits and given you a new group of friends to lean on, and that had fought God knows what to bring back the meds that his people needed…  This wasn’t a man that was going down anytime soon.  This man could be your last hope.

He twisted round on the bunk so he could lay back against your pillows, pulling you against his chest, and cradling you there, feeling your trembling cease as you listened to the hypnotic thrum of his heartbeat.  ‘Ya should get some sleep.  Ya look like ya need it.’

‘Will you stay?’

‘I told ya, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.’


End file.
